


memento

by fiction fetishist (fictionfetishist)



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 18:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionfetishist/pseuds/fiction%20fetishist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wishes it didn’t hurt as well as he remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	memento

**Author's Note:**

> there’s supposed to be more to this, but… things (coughthesiscough) happened, and i sort of lost where i was going with it. nevertheless, i didn’t want what i had come up with so far go to waste, so i figured i’d post it anyway

He dreams of Ōkeanós that night, dreams of his heart swelling at the thought of _finally_ reaching what lay beyond the horizon.

But most of all, he dreams of Rider’s hand on his shoulder, his voice at once so close and yet so far away, telling him:

_“We did it.”_

When he wakes up, it takes him a minute to realize his tears were still flowing.

 

* * *

 

“I’d like to travel,” he declares, and Glen and Martha look on with grief for the briefest of moments.

“Are you sure that’s what you want, dear?” his grandmother asks, “You could always stay here with us.”

“Exactly,” his grandfather interjects, “you’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” And, “Alexie, too.”

Waver shakes his head softly. “I’ve more or less finished what I came here for, and I really do need to return to the Clock Tower and continue my studies.”

The Mackenzies give him a small smile. “If that’s what you’ve decided, dear, then we’ll support you.”

Waver sends them a smile of his own, finishing off his bowl of rice. “I will, of course, need to save up money and supplies, so I won’t be leaving just yet.” And, “I’m thinking of getting a part time job, actually.”

“That’s wonderful, dear!” Martha declares.

“Nothing like getting a good day’s work,” Glen cheers, slapping him heartily on the back.

It’s not nearly as strong as when Rider used to do it, but Waver still chokes on his rice, just a little. It stings a lot more on the inside that he remembers.

 

* * *

 

He ends up working in a video game store, of all places.

He thinks that, if Rider had been with him when he had taken up the manager’s offer, he would have laughed, telling him that he was finally starting to see the light; maybe joke about him using his employee discount to treat him to a game or two despite already raiding much of his bank account.

Yes, if Rider had been with him—

He almost breaks down in the middle of a crowded mall.

How silly of him.

 

* * *

 

He finds himself on the roof most nights, when his mind grows too weary and his dreams become too much. There, he curls up with his blanket, a warm cup of coffee in hand. Then, he wonders.

He wonders about that night, wonders how things turned out the way they did, wonders if he could have done anything to stop it.

He wonders what would have happened, had they won the War, wonders if Rider’s wish would have really come true, wonders if—

“Waiting for the sunrise, eh, Waver?”

The young mage looks to his right in surprise, watching as his grandfather climbs out the window and sits down at his side.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling slightly as light begins to paint the sky.

He wonders if Rider can see the sunrise from wherever he is, too.

 

* * *

 

“I didn’t know you were a fan.”

Waver looks up, seeing his coworker’s—Seiji, if he remembered correctly—gaze fixed upon his shirt.

“Oh,” Waver says, tugging at this morning’s rushed attempt to get dressed (“The Admiral’s Great Tactics” it says in proud letters) self-consciously. “Uh, I guess you could call me that.”

“I never figured you’d be the type to go for war games,” Seiji chuckles, and Waver gives a sheepish smile; he thinks this may be the longest conversation they’ve ever had.

“I’m not,” he reassures, clearing his throat slightly. “My… friend really liked the game, and he ordered this shirt without telling me about it, so, I figured I might as well put it to good use.”

“Still,” Seiji smiles, “it’s nice to see a fellow Admiral, even if it is in clothing choices only.” At this, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, flashing his own piece of Admirable merchandise. “So, whaddaya say? Wanna go for a round of PVP after work? I’m sure the old man wouldn’t mind us borrowing a unit or two.”

“…Sure,” Waver says, despite himself. “Why not?”

It’s hard to pretend the untouched controller in the corner of his room doesn’t hurt to look at when he gets home.

 

* * *

 

He still hasn’t returned the books, now that he thinks about it.

While he did pay for all of Rider’s subsequent—“requests”, he still feels guilty about that episode at the library.

Smiling fondly, he runs his fingers along the spines of Rider’s “collection”: world maps, encyclopedias, history books, Homer, Shakespeare, Sun Tzu, and even one Guinness Book of World Records. Rider had quite the… “interesting” taste.

Then again, if he had been brought years and years into the future, along with all the new knowledge and discoveries that came with it, he’d probably have a few questions too.

Idly, he tips one of off the shelf and flips through to where Rider left off, his fingers grazing at the messy ear fold.

“Julius Caesar,” he notes before flopping back down on his bed and losing himself in the words before him.

The library can wait, just a little bit longer.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a while since he was last caught in a thunderstorm.

He realizes this, somewhat embarrassingly, only after spending the better part of then minutes, not looking for shelter, but standing there, in the middle of the pouring rain, just staring at the sky, watching the lightning crack and wondering, where the _hell_ Gordius wheel or Bucephalus were.

An angry pedestrian end up shoving past him, yelling, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? What are you, an idiot?” before disappearing to the other side of the road.

A faint smile tugging at his lips, “Yeah”, he replies, before looking to the sky again. “I guess I am.”

 

* * *

 

He books a flight that leaves first thing in the morning.

It’s a spontaneous decision, to say the least. He doubts he even has enough money saved up to last him for who knows how long he intends to travel—but, at the same time, he knows he can’t stay any longer.

He’s delayed his mission for long enough, spent too many days thinking and not doing. So, he packs up his bags, zips his dreams tight, and sets out to do what he should have done ages ago.


End file.
